symptomatic thirties

yikes!....

#The midriff thickens- lowered metabolism…. Waist is not as waspish anymore

#A tyre begins a steady creeping in… and can be controlled by loads and loads of exercise

#The dimpling cellulite invades the thighs and backside

#And the waddle begins it’s descent

#The excitement of a decent cleavage (finally) is soon dampened by the slackening of the gravity defying booby work

Your arms develop wings… yes the flabby upper arms are no exciting feat

And the cute little tummy, becomes a major case of a permanently sucked up gut which doesn’t do much… but probably correct your body posture

All these can be pretty depressing, but can be fixed… with a lot of work, money, and time too… what you cannot take away is me, and knowledge of myself.

I no longer do the mob psychology thingie; don’t need to go partying, attend concerts or society gatherings because everybody is, and to top it off I will wear what I like… no matter how out dated it may seem- look at it as being ahead of the crowd, considering the cyclic nature of fashion- I have style! i am n longr a slave to fashion.

If I seem to be tolerating your BS, I would run a mile if I were you, think check and mate, I only sacrifice for a good reason… any laast words for your king?

the sex is soooo much better; it is divine! - and good lovers are keepers

I am a manipulative, calculating, shrewd bitch; I will get what I want and need; logic being the end justifies the means, non?… don’t frown, sneer or jeer, I have done my fair share of pro bono work and suffered countless internship sessions in all aspects of my life- it’s time to reap reap reap!

The other thing- revenge is a dish best served cold- I hardly ever get mad these; but I almost always get freakishly even.

I like

• intelligent conversation,


• a witty tongue,


• a good hearty laugh,


• a good argument…

cant stand

• condescension,


• ‘youthful’ know-it-alls (please note the quotation marks),


• bad liars; for I do have a healthy respect for good ones; getting played rarely happens, but when it does- reality cheque (pun intended), a stronger opponent makes my game better.

Me I

• tire easily, I


• need the mystery, or


• a sharper mind, or


• a well read being, or


• widely traveled being;

I may drop off your radar from time to time, but I never discard what I like, then again, can’t leave on bread alone… yawn! yawn!

As I check into my thirties, you will probably think me decadent- it’s just a perception, it is time to indulge myself, and I shall do it in the same way a cat languorously stretches itself in its idyllic regal slumber… I finally, actually love me, for me, being me.

Here’s to the wicked thirties!

Ps
Happens next year!